


and even with hello (i hear goodbye)

by notcaycepollard



Series: we don't need to (talk about it) [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Strings Attached, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, my refrain continues to be 'sebastian stan you fucking idiot', who needs communication when you can pine for one million painful years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9469127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: It's Anthony who ends it.It's not like he even has to say anything, really. There's nowe need to talk, no break-up clichés. It's not a break-up. Just… the press tour is over, and they’re about to go their separate ways, start work on different projects. Fuck, it’s the easiest thing in the world to let it fade, except for how it isn’t.





	

It's Anthony who ends it.

It's not like he even has to say anything, really. There's no _we need to talk_ , no break-up clichés. It's not a break-up. Just… the press tour is over, and they’re about to go their separate ways, start work on different projects. Fuck, it’s the easiest thing in the world to let it fade, except for how it isn’t.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks Sebastian what feels like half a dozen times, and there’s something going on in Seb’s eyes but he says it pretty unequivocally. _No-strings_. _We’re cool_. Anthony’s kind of disappointed, if he's being honest with himself. Hoped Sebastian might be interested in – well, in _something,_ and he kind of gets the impression that he is, or that he might be, or that he wants something without letting himself want it – but Mackie's not gonna push. Sebastian’s weird intimacy issues aren't his fucking problem, okay. It just. It kind of sucks. _This is why you don’t fuck your co-stars, man_ , he tells himself, as if that’s any help now.

He gets back to an apartment that feels like it’s been empty for months. Starts unpacking and loses interest pretty much immediately, wanders aimlessly from room to room. He’s got so many friends to catch up with, new scripts to read over, should really get in touch with his agent about the next project starting up.

He wants to call Seb, he admits to himself, and thinks, oh _fuck._

 

It’s hardly even like he and Sebastian don’t see each other, really. The press tour is over but they still have cons, public appearances in New York and Philly and wherever else. Seb’s- Seb’s kind of weird, the first time. Bites his lip, asks too-casually about Anthony’s dating life.

“Oh,” Anthony says, “it didn’t go anywhere, really. You know how it is.” Of course it didn’t, he thinks privately, dating when you’re an actor is tough at best and it wasn’t even like they lived in the same city. No big. She was real great, he’s kind of regretful, that’s just the way it goes. Except then Seb’s giving him some kind of look, all big eyes and badly-concealed wounded longing, and Anthony’s abruptly furious. Seb just- he’s got no right to look that way, what the fuck.

“Well, if you're not seeing anyone…” Sebastian says, tilts his head to the side and smiling a little, small and crooked so that Anthony sees a flash of sharp teeth, and it would be so _easy_ to say _yeah, sure, here's my room key._ The words rest on Anthony's tongue and he swallows them whole, sticking in his throat.

“Better not,” he says instead, “let’s just- leave that shit back in the press tour, right?”

It's only sensible. _Protective_ , fuck. He wants something Seb doesn't, and he doesn't want to get only half of it, or a quarter. It’s better to do it this way, clean and neat. It's good for him, he tells himself, except that Seb's eyes get even bigger and he swallows hard like there's something in his throat and now it does feel like a break-up, like Mackie is breaking Seb's heart here and ain't that a kick in the fucking teeth given it's Sebastian who's pulled away every time before now.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, sounding maybe a little rough, a lot cored through. “Yeah, of course. No big deal.” Drops his gaze and lifts his paper coffee cup up to his mouth like that'll hide the painful set of his lips, his tight smile, and shit, Anthony really hates being an actor right now because of how he's learned over years to read people, to pay attention to every minute detail of their body language. Yeah, Seb's a good actor, but he's not great at not telegraphing emotion - shit, that’s what _makes_ him a good actor - and right now it feels like-

 _You wanted no-strings_ , he thinks, _you made that real clear,_ perplexed and stung and feeling, somehow, that they're talking past each other here. He watches Seb leave the room, looking intently at his cellphone. Not even faking a call, just- who the fuck knows, honestly. Sebastian’s always been a bit of a mess.

The rest of the weekend, it's kind of awkward. Not so anyone’d notice, Mackie's good at putting it on and so is Seb when he gets down to it, but just a little space pulling at the both of them. They go a couple weeks without really talking. It’s fine, it really is, Anthony’s busy the way he predicted he would be. Sees through twitter that Sebastian is in Ireland doing something dubiously 70s, and texts him just one word.

_POLYESTER???_

_Work where I can get it_ , Seb shoots back, and ain’t that the truth. It reopens the line of communication, at least, and they were friends before they were ever anything else. Just how it’s gotta be, Anthony thinks, and gets on with his life.

 

He only lets himself think about it any other way when he’s tired, lonely, maybe a bit drunk. _You could just-_ he thinks, and frowns at himself. He knows, right. It wouldn’t be any different. Seb’s weird as fuck about it, caught up in his own ideas of what’s possible, and it’s not up to Mackie to sort out his issues. Seb’s a grown man, he’s got a goddamn therapist, he’s just got to work it out or not. Mackie’s had boyfriends like that before. It never ends well.

It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. It’s just-

 _Shit_ , if nothing else, it’s just that the sex was really great, he admits to himself in a moment of introspective weakness. Jerks off thinking about it even as he’s trying not to think about it. His _mouth_ , Christ, Anthony is not above admitting that Sebastian’s goddamn mouth drives him fucking nuts. The way he licks his lips, how he sucks his lower lip into his mouth and looks at Anthony all hooded sleepy eyes and barely hidden wanting, it makes Mackie crazy until all he wants to do is reach out and touch. So what if he's jerking off thinking about all the times they've fucked. It's no big deal.

 _Fuck, fuck, right there, I fucking love y-_ Seb moans in his head, and Anthony comes so hard he gets dots in his vision. Has to blink to clear it.

It'd be different if they really were just fooling around. Hell, it's not like Anthony hasn't had on-set flings in the past, sweet little things that were never gonna go anywhere. But it's this intensity, the way Seb looks at him when he thinks Anthony isn't looking. His eyes like Anthony hung the moon, and Anthony doesn't know how to deal with it, his hot-and-cold bullshit. Plays it off the way he always does, plays it easy, and he knows Seb thinks he's a great actor but the thing is, he's better.

 

 _Happy birthday, man,_ Sebastian texts him. _Missing your face._ Attaches a video of himself throwing an arm around Anthony's shoulders, footage from the press tour, and Anthony lets it loop a half dozen times. Shit, he's… it's right there for anyone who wants to look, isn't it, the two of them thick as thieves and Mackie doesn't know how everyone doesn't see it, the way Seb drops his gaze and focuses so intently on Mackie's mouth. How Mackie ducks his head and flushes hot like what Seb is saying is too much to cope with.

How does Seb _look like that_ , Mackie thinks, how does he look at Anthony with his heart in his eyes and then push it down every time Anthony tries to make it more. The emotional whiplash of it is ridiculous.

He knows better than to start writing a reply when he's not sure what to say. The incriminating little dots of someone typing and deleting a message over and over, iMessage being too smart for its own good, and instead Anthony closes the text. Shoves his phone in his pocket. He'll reply later, whatever, it's fine. They're just friends, right. _Castmates,_ shit, it's not like he owes Seb immediate attention.

He leaves it two days. Waits until he's got a buzz on, and then it suddenly feels like a great idea to reply right then.

 _Thanks, playa,_ he taps out, hits send without adding anything else, no cute little in-jokes, asking how Seb is, no offer to hang the next time they're in town, and thinks that sends a fairly unambiguous message. Maybe it's cruel, maybe he should just be upfront about all of this, but he's drunk and it stings and he's just so fucking tired of Seb's bullshit. _Want me or don't want me_ , he thinks, _but make up your fucking mind about it, would you?_

 

 _You have to stop being so nice to me_ , Sebastian had told him once. Exhausted from a premiere and from fucking, the kind that had been more intense than usual thanks to an evening that essentially boiled down to hours of disguised flirtation on a red carpet before they’d ever got anywhere private enough to do anything about it. Seb spread-eagled flat in Anthony's bed, naked and dishevelled, his face pushed mostly into the pillow, and in hindsight Anthony's pretty sure he'd only let himself say it because he was too tired not to. _You have to- I can't handle it, man, you're always so-_

He'd cut himself off there. Rolled over, groaning, and gathered up the scattered pieces of his suit, buttoning himself back up. Smoothing his hair back and smiling at Mackie before he’d taken off, and Mackie had been too sleepy to notice, really, how Seb’s smile hadn’t reached his eyes.

The thing is, Anthony doesn't think he was being _nice_ , exactly. Complimentary, sure. _Look at this guy. So handsome. Look at those eyes. You’re looking good, man._ It's nothing but the truth. But he'd watched, after that, how Seb had leaned into every touch and then flinched away from it.

Anthony wasn’t being nice, maybe, when he’d tried dating someone else. Starting something else right in front of Sebastian just to see where it'd go. Not manipulative, exactly, but…

Giving Seb one last chance, and look how that had gone.

 

They fall in and out of touch for the next few months like that. Seb doesn’t _say_ anything to him about that birthday text fiasco, but Anthony hears about it anyway, Sebastian in Austin and talking shit. It’s rude, is what it is, and Anthony taps out a text while he’s waiting on the next take of this project he’s working on in Detroit. _Oh my god, stop complaining about me, you little shit. So needy, Seb. I’m a busy guy, you know that._ Deletes it. Tone of voice never translates properly, and he doesn’t want to escalate the whole thing, but, _god_ , these mixed messages are making his head hurt.

Sebastian just won't quit talking about him, apparently. That's a thing that's happening. Twitter fills Anthony in on all the details. _I've never been to New Orleans. I have a soft spot in my heart for that man._ It's unfair, is what it is. People shouldn't be allowed to fuck you for three months and then blow you off and then look at you like they're in broken-hearted yearning, and then _keep talking about you._ There should be fucking rules.

 _Stay strong,_ he tells himself, and doesn't delete Seb's number from his phone. He's not some pining teenager in a John Green film. They've got a simple narrative, and Mackie is better than this, better than letting himself get caught up in a wistful spiral of _what if_ and _you could just give it one more go._

It'd just be nice, is all, if his brain could fucking get with the program already.

 

“What's up with you and Sebastian?” Chris asks the next time Anthony is in Boston, tapping ash off the tip of his cigar, and Anthony shrugs.

“What do you mean, me and Sebastian? He say something to you?”

“No, it just- you were, like, best friends on the press tour. Kind of figured you'd be seeing more of each other, is all.”

“We're busy people,” Anthony says. “He's in Atlanta at the moment, I think.”

“Right,” Chris agrees easily, “okay.” Takes a pull of his cigar, looking seriously at Anthony, and Anthony schools his face into thoughtful blankness as if Sebastian’s whereabouts are nothing but an academic question. “The thing about Seb,” Chris adds after a pause, “is he thinks he knows what he wants.”

“I mean, isn't that kind of all of us?” Mackie points out, “that’s real deep, Chris, you're practically a philosopher,” and Chris tilts his head to the side, acknowledging the point.

“Yeah, but. What Seb tells himself what he wants is usually what he thinks he _should_ want.”

It cuts uncomfortably close to the truth, like, is Evans seriously sitting here giving Anthony relationship advice about Sebastian goddamn Stan. How did this become Anthony's life.

“That right?” he asks. Carefully light. Chris frowns a little.

“You gotta- I mean, with someone like that. All you can do is work out what it is _you_ want, and see if it fits. Leave them to figure out their own feelings, you know?”

“Hmm,” Anthony says. Knowing Chris knows, or suspects, and not really caring. The issue here is he knows what he wants. The issue here is Seb won't figure out his own feelings. The issue is Anthony's pretty sure he fell for someone who's so emotionally closed-off it's not gonna end well for anyone. He doesn't exactly want to get into the details of it all. “You know what I want, man?”

“What?” Chris asks, sounding genuinely curious, and Anthony leans in closer.

“A stand alone Falcon movie,” he says, deadpan, low and kind of threatening like he'll kill off Steve Rogers himself if he has to, and watches Chris throw his head back in a Chris Evans patented belly laugh. It’s a good dodge, he thinks later. He’s great at dodging. 

 

He and Sebastian eventually wind up at another con together, of course they do, and Anthony resolutely doesn’t think about how bad it might be. In the end it goes from awkward to hilarious in a matter of minutes like they’re finally falling back in step with each other. Not missing a beat, just egging each other on until he can tell the con volunteers working with them are doing their best not to get straight-up mad with two grown-ass men acting like ten year olds, and then they take it just a little further until Anthony’s ribs hurt with laughter. God, it’s fun. Mackie’s _missed_ this, he’s fucking- of course he’s missed it. Seb was one of his best friends for years, way back to the Winter Soldier tour before they even got on the set of Civil War, all the mischief they got up to before they ever fucked around. It kind of feels like they messed with a good thing, except that this is all so easy he’s hopeful, suddenly, that they might be able to get back to it.

“Come on,” he says once the last panel is over, “come _on_ , don’t go sit in your room and order pizza, that’s so depressing, let’s go find something to eat.”

“It’s not depressing,” Seb says, automatic, “you know I cherish my post-con pizza, it’s a fuckin' treat, but hell, why not. You know anywhere good?”

They don’t go somewhere good. They wander until they find somewhere tiny, knocking their elbows together as they eat tacos side by side in some little hole-in-the-wall. It’s great, it’s actually great, it’s shitty and clearly beloved and nobody gives a shit that two Hollywood kind-of-stars are there eating chilaquiles and making fun of each other’s beer choices. Sebastian gets salsa all over his fingers, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, lets his thigh press against Anthony’s in the crowded space of the taqueria, and Anthony thinks, _thank fuck_ , they’re finally back to normal.

“You want to get a drink?” Mackie says, after, and watches Sebastian hesitate in a way that’s frankly physically painful.

“Yeah,” he agrees eventually, “hey, why not, but I kind of feel like- you know, if we were somewhere public, it’d...”

“We’d get mobbed,” Anthony says, “fuck, I know. Minibar? My room?”

“Oh, you got a _minibar_ ,” Seb teases, and they’re fine, it’s fine. Shit, he’s missed this soft idiot of a man. Mackie punches him lightly in the shoulder. Grins at him.

“Hey, they break out the big perks for stars like me,” he teases right back, and Seb leans into the touch, laughs until his nose is crinkling with it.

 

They settle into Anthony's room, bourbon in hand, and it's all so nice and so easy Anthony kind of wonders what he was even worrying about. Is still self-aware enough to be glad he's been given a suite, that there's at least a door between this tiny fake-luxurious couch situation and his unmade hotel bed. It's just, he's got associations with Sebastian and hotel beds, is all.

“You know they still haven't told me whether I'm in Infinity War?” he says, because complaining about Marvel is a time-honored tradition when you're hired by Marvel, and Seb makes a disbelieving noise. “No, I'm serious! Do I show up in any of your scripts, man?”

“I haven't got them yet either,” Sebastian admits. “I figure I'm _in_ it, fuck, they must want to get all nine films out of me, but… That's bullshit, seriously. It wouldn't be the same without you.”

“You're goddamn right,” Anthony agrees. “And you'd miss me on the promotion tour.”

“Yeah,” Seb murmurs, “I would,” and it's too flayed-open, too honest by half. There's a long and meaningful silence. Sebastian is biting his lip until it's red, running a hand through his hair, and Anthony tries to come up with some way to change the subject, finds himself without words for once. It's like- shit, he can't play this down, can't laugh it off, can only sip his drink and look at Seb, away, fuck, _don't make eye contact._

“Do you ever think about-” Seb asks, and there it is hanging between them again, the air thick with the intensity of it all. Anthony looks down at his drink. Sits back in his seat. Glances up at Seb.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I think about it,” and his voice is real low like that’ll stop it from cracking. It comes out level. Casual, even, thank _fuck_ , and Sebastian chews his lip, opens his mouth and then closes it like he’s trying to make up his mind.

“Do you want to…” he starts. Anthony leans forward, takes Seb’s drink from him and puts their glasses down on the table. He’s making a mistake, he knows he’s probably making a mistake even as he does it, but shit, he is only so strong and this is just. _Too much._

“Come here,” he murmurs, and that’s it, that’s fucking it. Sebastian kisses him like maybe he’s been wanting to do it for the last ten thousand years, and fuck, Anthony knows the feeling.

 

It's kind of, shit, it's kind of better than Anthony even remembered. They make out on the couch like teenagers and then Sebastian is gasping out, “bed, _bed_ , fuck, we should-” and it's a great idea, the best idea he's ever had. Seb backs him up against the door to the bedroom, kisses sharp and biting down his throat, makes a softly desperate little noise half under his breath. Pulls at his clothes like he needs Mackie to be naked right the fuck now, _Jesus_ , Anthony’s chest hurts a little with how good this is. And then they’re actually in bed, all hot skin and Seb’s hands pulling him in close, and Anthony wants to sink his teeth in just to leave some kind of proof that this actually happened.

He’d forgotten, maybe, how intense they both get as soon as they’re in bed together, and this time it’s dialed up to eleven, Sebastian still making those quiet little noises like it’s so good he can’t quite cope. By the end Mackie thinks he maybe can’t move ever again, like, he’ll just lie here and contemplate every decision in his life that led to this point. He reaches out. Strokes his fingers through Seb's hair, and Seb sighs, wriggles a little closer. Drops one arm over Anthony’s ribcage, fingers just brushing his hip, and it’s basically the closest Sebastian’s ever come to post-sex cuddling, shit.

“I missed you,” Anthony murmurs. Figures it's okay to be a little honest, right now. Except then something like terror is flashing into Seb’s eyes, and there it is, the flinch Anthony was waiting for even as he hoped it wouldn’t come.

“Shit,” Seb mutters, “it’s- _late_ , it’s late, I should go.” He pulls away. Sits up, rubs a palm over his face. Glances back at Anthony. “This was fun, right? Just like it used to be?”

 _What the goddamn fuck is your problem_ , Anthony thinks tiredly. Doesn’t have the energy to get into it.

“Yeah,” he agrees instead. “It was fun. I’ll see you around. Tell Marvel to cast me already, right?”

“Right,” Seb says, sounding uncertain, a little lost. “Right, yeah, right. Okay, well, I’ll…” He pulls on his jeans. Finds his shirt. Leaves without looking back. After a minute or two, Anthony gets up.

Both their drinks are still on the coffee table, barely touched. Anthony empties Seb’s glass into his own. Sits down and takes a sip, swallowing hard. _Back to normal_ , yeah, for a given value of normal. Just like it used to be, for real.

 

Anthony ended this whole thing for a fucking reason. He shouldn't have expected the second time around to go any differently.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> S O R R Y 
> 
> [internal screaming]
> 
> i, uh, you can come [yell at me](http://notcaycepollard.tumblr.com/) if that's something you wanna do, i know i deserve it, but please know there will honest to god be a final part to this with actual fucking resolution
> 
> alternate title for this: _he never wants to strip down to his feelings (never wants to kiss and close his eyes)_ bc I am unmitigated CRJ trash and this series continues to be brought to you by the entirety of the e*mo*tion side b


End file.
